


Carry Your Heart

by wife27



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Friends, Crowley Just Wants To Be Loved (Good Omens), Eventual Happy Ending, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Heartbreak, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Protective Crowley, References to The Notebook (2004), Reunions, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wife27/pseuds/wife27
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have been friends since childhood. After a romance in their teens, they are separated for nine years. When they are reunited, it becomes apparent that time has not dulled their passion for one another, even if each man is reluctant to admit it. This AU is inspired by the Notebook, so some of the plot points will be similar.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 34
Collections: Good Omens Human AUs





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the 1950’s, so there’s some homophobia. It’s not nearly as bad as it was in the actual 1950’s. Think of it more like the Bible Belt in the modern day United States.  
> We will spend the first few chapters delving into their childhoods and teenage romance before moving on to their adult lives. I’m really excited for this fic, so I hope you enjoy it!

_1947, Age 7_

Aziraphale had always been a very proper child. His family set many rules and expectations for him, which he always followed without question. The first seven years of his life had been fairly uneventful. Aziraphale had never been one to squabble with other students, let alone find himself in a fight. Until now.

“Sandy, you must leave her alone!” Aziraphale protested. 

“I don’t know why you’re getting so upset,” the other boy sneered. “It was you she stole from!”

Aziraphale could feel his face go red with frustration. “How many times do I have to tell you, she didn’t steal from me!” 

“So I’m supposed to believe someone as poor as her could afford that coat?”

“It _was_ mine, but I gave it away!” he tried to explain again. Aziraphale probably had more coats in his closet than every student at the school put together. He could handle being chilly for one day. 

He looked around the playground for support. Aside from Sandy’s gang, the only other student nearby was that Crowley boy, and he always kept to himself. The closest teacher was across the yard, and heaven knows what could happen to that unlucky girl if he left her alone. 

Words were getting him nowhere. Feeling emboldened, Aziraphale stepped between himself and the young girl. “You know she didn’t take it! You’re just picking on her because you’re a bully!”

“Is that right?” Sandy smirked. “If I’m a bully, I guess it won’t matter if I do this!” 

His massive hands fell upon Aziraphale, who landed heavily on his newly scraped knees. His cuts were burning and he closed his watering eyes, waiting for a blow to his face. It never came. When Aziraphale did open his eyes again, it was to see a scrawny redheaded boy being pulled off his attacker.

Sandalphon was on the ground and his nose was bleeding. A teacher hurried across the yard at the sound of his screams. Crowley looked absolutely feral as a teacher grabbed his arm to take him to the office. 

Aziraphale could hear someone behind say, “That Crowley kid is a psycho!” 

“And don’t you forget it!” Crowley yelled, shaking his fist like a cartoon character swearing vengeance. 

Crowley was suspended for three days. Aziraphale tried to explain what had actually happened to the front office, but no one seemed to care. Crowley was from a poor family and already had a history of lashing out. The former offense could make him guilty of anything. 

On the day of Crowley’s return, Aziraphale scoured the lunchroom for his redheaded savior. Eventually, he found him eating alone in a corner of the cafeteria. He hovered near him without setting down his tray. Aziraphale tapped his shoulder to gain his attention, but Crowley didn’t look up. 

“Thank you for helping me the other day,” Aziraphale said.

“S’nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You saved me and Eve, then you got in trouble for it. I want you to know I appreciate it.”

“Alright.” He still hadn’t looked up from his food.

This boy obviously had no desire to talk to Aziraphale. He was tempted to walk away, but he couldn’t help himself. “Why did you do it?” he asked. 

“Wot?” 

“Why did you stop those bullies? Why did you put yourself in harm's way for people you didn’t know?”

Crowley gave a casual shrug. “S’nice of you to give your stuff away like that. Shouldn’t be punished for it.”

Satisfied by his answer, Aziraphale gave him a nod and another word of thanks before making his way to leave. 

“I’ve seen you give other stuff away too,” the boy called from over his shoulder.

“You have?”

He nodded. “Usually just food from your lunch, or a toy. Never a nice jacket like that.” 

Aziraphale stared down at his feet, embarrassed. “My father always gets upset when I share my things. He says that I’m too soft for my own good.”

“Your father is a twit,” Crowley said matter of factly. 

Azirapahle knew he shouldn’t laugh, but he couldn’t help it. His chuckles earned a lopsided smile from the redhead. “What’s your name?” Aziraphale asked through his giggles.

“Anthony Crowley.”

“But everyone calls you Crowley, right?”

He nodded. “Except you. You can call me Anthony.”

“Really?” 

Crowley smiled his approval, and Aziraphale could feel the significance of the gesture. 

“What’s your name?” Crowley asked. 

“Aziraphale Fell.”

Crowley drew his eyebrows together. “Azinglebel? No, Azerphlem? Hmmm.. that’s a mouthful. Do you go by anything shorter?”

“Well, our head house-maid Tracy calls me angel.”

“Angel,” Crowley repeated the nickname slowly. “Yeah,” he said, looking him over appraisingly. “I like it. We’ll stick with that.”

“I usually eat lunch in the library, but is it alright if I eat with you today, Anthony?”

“Sure thing, angel.” 

-

_1952, Age 12_

“He didn’t steal it!” Aziraphale argued angrily.

“Of course he did! Who else at this school would need the money?”

“That’s totally irrelevant! You’re just mad that he broke your nose in grade two.” 

“It’s completely relevant!” Sandy retorted. “Crowley is the only person at the school with a motive! He’s so poor, his house doesn’t even have a telephone!”

“I object! Most people don’t have a telephone.”

“This isn’t a courtroom Mr. Fell,” their headmaster said wearily. “I don’t know why you're even here, this doesn’t concern you anyway.”

“It does concern me! I can give Anthony an alibi. We were playing cards at his house after school yesterday. His dad can corroborate.” 

They were all sitting in the headmaster’s cramped office. Crowley was slouching in a nearby chair. He hadn’t said a word yet. 

Saldalphon sniggered. “Of course you would say that. Aziraphale would say anything to protect his _boyfriend_.”

Crowley’s cheeks flamed and he looked away.

“That’s enough, both of you,” the headmaster interjected.

“I did it. I stole the money.”

Aziraphale turned to look at Crowley in shock. “But that’s impossible! I was with you all of yesterday!”

“Boys,” he headmaster began shooing Aziraphale and Sandalphon out. “It’s time to leave. Mr. Crowley and I need to speak alone about the repercussions of his actions.”

Aziraphale waited for half an hour outside the headmaster’s office for them to finish. It was decided that Crowley would be suspended for two weeks. 

“Why did you do that?” Aziraphale snapped as they were walking home together. “How could you take the blame?”

“Fuck, just leave me alone, Aziraphale,” Crowley said sharply. 

“I certainly will not! You are innocent, and now you're being suspended for no reason! I have half a mind to march back in there myself and--” 

“Everyone wanted to believe it was me. I would have been suspended regardless.” Crowley looked away from him. Was he wiping his eyes? “You were going to get in trouble just by being associated with me. I’m not worth it, so just go already.”

“Of course you’re worth it, you dafty!” Crowley redirected his gaze and was surprised to see the upset look on the blonde’s face. “Do you really think I want to be at this school without you? You’re the only thing that makes this place bearable!”

Crowley gave him a crooked smile. “Yeah?”

“How could you not know that by now? You’re my best friend.” 

Crowley’s ears turned pink. He opened his mouth to say something, but shrugged instead. “You’ll make it through two weeks without me,” he said eventually.

“Well I know that,” Aziraphale tutted. “I’ll still visit you everyday to bring you your school work. I’m not going to let you fall behind.” 

Crowley stopped walking. “Angel, why do you care so much about me?”

Aziraphale moved to grab a long, spindly hand in his own. He could feel that his friend was shaking. “I know your dad loves you, but he works a lot. I want you to know that I’m here too.”

“Thanks, angel. You’re a good friend.” They shared a quick hug, then continued walking home. 

-

_1954, Age 14_

Crowley knocked on the door of the largest house he had ever seen. A kind faced woman with bright orange hair answered it. 

“Hello, Anthony,” she said warmly. “It’s good to see you.” 

“Hello Ms.Tracy. How is Aziraphale doing today? He wasn’t at school again.”

“He’s on the mend dear, but afraid he’s still sick.”

“Would it be alright if I went up to see him? I’ve already had the chickenpox, so you don’t have to worry about me catching it.” They both knew that was not her main hesitation for letting him inside, but a boy could dream. 

“Well, I suppose,” she dithered. “He’s been feeling so dreadful, and it would make him terribly happy to see you.” She opened the door wider and let out a sigh. “You already know the way. Top floor, third door on the left.”

It had been a long time since he’d visited the Fell’s manor, but he still managed to find his way through the labyrinth of crown molding and marbled floors. 

He knocked on a familiar door twice. “Come in,” a weak voice replied. He opened the door to find Aziraphale lying on a poofy bed, buried in blankets. Aziraphale was normally so composed and proper, Crowley felt like he could be looking at his evil twin. His white blond curls frizzed wildly around his head. His azure eyes, which were normally so bright with life, seemed heavy and tired. His milky white skin was flecked with pink dots. 

Crowley tried to figure out how someone could look so awful and beautiful at the same time. Regardless, he had never felt the urge to protect something so strongly in his life. 

“Anthony!” Aziraphale said with a smile brighter than the sun. It was quickly replaced by a frown, as Aziraphale tried to pull the covers over his head. “Oh! Close your eyes. I don’t want you to see me like this!”

“Pffffffft. Angel, please,” Crowley said, moving forward. “Do you remember last year when I got food poisoning at school, and you saw me barf everywhere? I think we’re even now.”

Aziraphale let out a weak laugh that turned into a cough. “Did you come here just to make me smile?”

 _Yes_ , Crowley thought. “I came to drop off your school work. Also, you left The Hobbit in your locker. I thought you might want to finish it.” 

“I would,” Aziraphale sighed, “but it's hard to hold a book when I’m forced to wear these.” He revealed his hands to hold up the most ridiculous pair of mittens Crowley had ever seen. Against his will, he burst out laughing. 

“Yes, ha-ha very funny,” Aziraphale snapped. “They’re the only thing that keeps me from scratching these blasted blisters. I don’t want to scar my complexion, mother says it’s one of the only things I have going for me.”

Crowley bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something embarrassing. “If you can’t hold the book, I could read to you. If you want.” 

“Really! That would be absolutely wonderful,” Aziraphale beamed. “Thank you dear. You are so kind.” 

“Am not! You can’t go around saying that or you’ll ruin my reputation. Now scoot over.” They got in about ten minutes of reading in before deciding to create their own (horrible) riddles like Bilbo Baggins instead. Crowley was wiping tears from his eyes while Aziraphale was clutching his stomach from laughing so hard. 

“We should write these down,” Aziraphale said through his giggles. “We could sell a book.”

“Yeah,” Crowley snorted. “We’ll call it the The Best Riddle Book for the Most Clever People.” Their new round of laughter was broken when the door swung open. 

“Aziraphale, I brought you some--” his mother paused in the doorway and stiffened when she realized Crowley was in the room. “Anthony, what an unexpected surprise.” 

“Hello, mother. Anthony came to bring me my school work.”

“That’s very kind of him, but you should really be resting right now.” She turned to Crowley. “I think it’s time to leave, Anthony.”

“Does he have to?” Aziraphale whined. 

“Yes, darling. I’m afraid so.” She addressed Crowley again. “Tracy let you in?”

He was staring down at his shoes. How could someone so warm have been raised by someone so cold? “Yes, ma’am. I told her I needed to give the work directly to him so I could give him instructions. She asked me to leave it with her instead, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

She hummed and shot him a disapproving gaze. “Thank you for bringing us Aziraphale’s work. The doctor said he should be in school next week. There’s no need for you to visit again.”

-

_1956, Age 16_

Crowley’s house was small, but the backyard was large and untamed. Crowley and Aziraphale were relaxing by a shaded creek that ran through the property.

Aziraphale’s yard was larger and more beautiful, but it was full of prying eyes. The creek was their Eden. It was a place where they could be alone. They were stretched out on a grassy knoll, enjoying the cool breeze that was carried off the water. A young cat was mewling contentedly on Aziraphale’s lap. 

“This is bullshit, you know.” 

Aziraphale guffawed. “It most certainly is not.”

Crowley shook his head. “Do you know how long I had to bribe that damned cat with cans of fish before she let me get near her?”

“She's a young alley cat, Anthony. What did you expect to happen? Honestly, if you wanted her to like you, you should have given her a better name than ‘Crawly’.”

“But she’s always crawling under stuff! Also, Crowley Jr. would have been too strange, with her being a girl and all.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Regardless, I think she’s a gentle soul, just a bit misunderstood.” The cat was purring as he scratched behind her ear.

“Misunderstood!” Crowley spluttered. “She ripped my clothes to shreds the first time I held her!”

“I’d take her home with me, but I doubt my parents would like that, especially if there’s the slightest chance she could rip something.” He sighed. “They care so much about the things they never use and the clothes they never wear. By the way, did I tell you my father bought me a tailored suit this week?” 

“What for?”

“It’s so I can attend work parties and sit in on meetings with him.”

“Sounds dull,” Crowley said while snapping a twig in half. 

“It’s terribly dull, but I do like the suit. It makes me look very fancy.” 

“Who cares if something makes you look fancy? Clothing should be a way to express yourself.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “It’s easy for _you_ to say that. You look handsome in whatever you wear.” It was true. With his bright crimson hair, lean physique, honey eyes, and sharp cheekbones, Crowley was easily the most handsome boy in their grade.

Crowley’s ears turned pink and he mumbled something Aziraphale didn’t quite catch. He promptly turned away, looking embarrassed. 

Aziraphale, feeling more than a little embarrassed himself, checked the time on his watch. “It’s getting late. I’m going to miss my curfew if I don’t leave now.” Crawley mewed indignantly as Aziraphale pushed her off of his lap and onto Crowley’s. 

“Better get going then. Your parents already hate me enough.”

“They don’t….” Aziraphale faltered. “They just don’t know you like I do.”

“Sometimes I think you’re the only person that knows me,” Crowley whispered. Was he blushing? Or was it just the dimming light? 

“Meet here tomorrow at noon?” Aziraphale asked. “If you’re not busy, that is. I can bring a picnic.”

“Can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday. One condition though!” he added hastily. “You help me with my maths homework after we eat.”

Aziraphale sighed dramatically, pretending to be put out. “That’s fine, I suppose.”

As he started moving through the forested area, he could hear a, “See ya tomorrow, angel!” called out from behind him. 

He smiled and kept walking. His heart was fluttering in his chest, as it often did around his best friend. He also couldn’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday.


	2. Leaves of Grass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in 24 hours? Why not.

Azirapahle walked into the manor feeling lighter than air. He was thinking about what he would pack for his picnic with Crowley the following day. He knew it would definitely include strawberries. He loved the way Crowley’s mouth looked when he ate strawberries. Aziraphale fantasized about the laughs they would share and the accidental brushes of skin they sometimes had. Just thinking about it had his heart pounding. Unfortunately, Aziraphale’s day dream was interrupted as he entered the drawing room. Both of his parents were there waiting for him. 

“Where have you been?” his father demanded angrily.

Aziraphale stared at him confusedly and checked his watch. “I-- I made it back for curfew.”

“This isn’t about curfew, Aziraphale,” his mother responded, setting a hand on her husband's shoulder. “We just want to have a nice _calm_ talk with you. Please sit with us.”

Hesitantly, Aziraphale moved towards an overstuffed, velvet couch. He racked his brain for any misdeeds he could have committed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been chastised by his parents. “I’m sorry, have I done something wrong?”

After catching his wife’s eye, Aziraphale’s father cleared his throat in an attempt to keep his tone even. “Son, you’re old enough to care about the company you keep. This is the time to start networking and making valuable connections. I know that Crowley boy was fun and games when you were younger, but there are better families to associate with.”

Aziraphale felt like the air had been punched from his lungs. He knew that his parents never liked Crowley, but this all seemed very sudden. “Anthony is my best friend. He’s been my best friend for years.”

“Yes, and I’m glad he made you happy during that time,” his mother conceded. “But your father makes a good point.” 

“Happy?” Aziraphale’s shock was bubbling into anger. “Mother, he was the only thing that kept me from getting bullied for the last decade by those ‘better families’! I thought you would be grateful to him for that!”

“You don’t need him for that now,” his father shot back. “We’re the wealthiest family in Tadfield. Your peers are starting to realize what an asset a friendship with you could be. I’m sure they’ll put aside their negative feelings if you leave that scoundrel.”

“Scoundrel!” Aziraphale’s eyes were now burning with angry tears. How dare they! Crowley’s address and general appearance were the only things his parents had cared about. It didn’t matter to them that he rescued an injured alley cat, read to his friends when sick, played chess (which he hated) because Aziraphale wanted to practice, had spent hours carving a wooden pencil holder as a birthday gift, or had the most gentle smile Aziraphale had ever seen. Crowley’s pedigree wasn’t impressive enough for his parents, so they made no attempt to know him. 

Aziraphale continued with barely contained outrage. “He’s the best person I know! I mean, he might get in the occasional fight, but only when he’s provoked. Most of the time it’s because he’s defending me!”

“Oh, honey,” his mum started. “You don’t need to defend him. The boy grew up without a mother, it makes sense he’d be a bit more… wild.” She turned to look wearily at her husband. “There have also been some rumors about him.” 

People were always starting rumors about Crowley. Some said he had been arrested for murder, some claimed his snake tattoo was a gang affiliation symbol, some rumors even alleged he wore his sunglasses to hide his identity as a mob boss.

Aziraphale let out a sigh, ready to put their suspicions to rest. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.” 

“He’s a queer,” his father spat. 

“Wh--what?” Aziraphale said, taken aback. 

“I have connections to police officers in neighboring towns. Last week, one checked a parked car to find two boys necking inside. One of them was your beloved friend. I paid to have it hushed because I knew it would reflect poorly on you. We can’t risk something like damaging the family reputation.”

This was more information than Aziraphale could handle at once. His stomach twisted in knots at the idea of abandoning his friend, as well as the thought of Crowley kissing anybody else. “You’re just going to listen to such baseless gossip? You don’t know for sure that was him!”

“Are you in a queer relationship with that boy?” his father accused.

“No! I already told you, he’s my best friend.” Aziraphale stood up to move away from them. He couldn’t listen to this any longer. “You’re both being ridiculous! I refuse to discuss this with you. I have done everything you’ve ever asked of me, but I refuse to end a friendship over some rumors.” Before his parents could respond, he stormed upstairs to his bedroom. 

Tracy was kind enough to bring him dinner, but Aziraphale had no appetite. His stomach already felt like it was filled with lead. He was angry, and not just at his parents. He was angry at himself, and Crowley as well. 

Unbidden, he pictured Crowley’s thin, pink lips and crooked smile being pushed against the face of another boy. He could see his slender, elegant fingers stroking someone else's skin and could hear his rough voice whispering endearments into a stranger's ear. He felt something ugly flare deep inside of him. 

He picked up “The Hobbit” from his bedside table and threw it in frustration. They were best friends, weren’t best friends supposed to tell each other everything? Though, Aziraphale supposed he had been hiding something for quite some time. 

After a night of restless sleep, the turmoil in Aziraphale’s chest had not subsided. The next morning, he stormed through Crowley’s backyard and found him lying in the sun by their creek. 

——-

It was a warm, lazy morning and Crowley had enjoyed every moment of it. He made the decision to leave Crawley at home. He wanted Aziraphale’s attention all for himself today. He idly pulled out blades of grass, while picturing what Aziraphale would bring for their picnic. The blonde’s cooking was divine. Crowley’s mouth watered just _thinking_ about the cake he had baked him for his 16th birthday. The man really was a marvel. 

Crowley was snapped out of his reverie at the sound of twigs breaking behind him. He turned to see Aziraphale approaching, causing fondness and longing to erupt in his chest. 

“Hiya, angel,” he said, as he watched him approach. As Aziraphale got closer, Crowley could tell something was wrong. He was wringing his empty hands; a definite sign that something was upsetting him. “Didn’t you say you were going to bring a picnic?” 

“Is it true? Did you kiss a boy?” Aziraphale asked accusingly. 

The warm feeling in his chest was replaced by ice. Crowley’s sunglasses helped with his light sensitivity, but they also had the added benefit of masking his expressions. Unfortunately, Aziraphale had gotten rather good at deciphering the emotions he hid behind them over the years. The first thing he felt was shock. “How—?” He shook his head. The second was anger. “What if I did?” he replied with venom. “Does that bother you, Aziraphale?” 

Aziraphale could feel a multitude of emotions rolling around his chest. None of them were pleasant. “Yes. Yes, it does bother me!” 

Crowley tried to feel angry, but instead he was overcome with disappointment and betrayal. He thought back to all the times he had caught Aziraphale staring at him. The way their fingers had brushed, and the radiant smile that had only been reserved for him. Had he been fooling in thinking that maybe, just maybe...

Crowley stood up, drawing himself to his full height. His hands were balled into fists and his head was swimming. “So now you’re just going to judge me like everyone else, huh? Finally decided you were too good for me?” he spat. He uncurled a fist to poke Aziraphale sharply in the sternum. “I expected better from you! I thought you were my best friend! I thought—!” he snarled, pulling his hair in frustration. 

Crowley had more things he wanted to yell, but he couldn’t seem to find his voice. The pressure behind his eyes was growing. Aziraphale had seen him cry before, but this was too much. This was raw. 

He heard Azirpahle mumble something, but he couldn’t understand it over the sound of blood rushing through his ears. 

“What?” he snapped. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat and spoke again quietly. “Why not me?” 

“What the hell are you on about, Aziraphale?” 

He spoke slowly. “If you wanted to kiss a boy,” he looked away, “why...why not me?” 

Crowley could feel his heart in his throat, he attempted to swallow it back down. “Don’t--don’t mess with me Aziraphale,” he said. The dams behind his eyes were ready to burst. “I’m not in the mood.”

Azirapahle moved towards him slowly, like he was approaching an injured animal. “Anthony,” he was reaching for Crowley’s sunglasses with shaking hands. “I’m not teasing.” 

“Then-- you-- you’re--but--” he stammered incoherently. 

Aziraphale took another step closer and stared deeply into his amber eyes. He left Crowley nowhere to hide. His gaze moved to his lips. “I’m not here to judge you for kissing him, Anthony. Trust me when I say that I understand the inclination.” He huffed a nervous laugh. “I just didn’t think you could be interested in.... I didn't think it was possible for us....” he shook his head looking for the right words. “I understand if it’s not me that you want, but I want you to know that I want--”

Aziraphale was cut off by two long hands grabbing the sides of his face, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. Azirapahle's face was hot against his skin, and Crowley sucked on his bottom lip. Aziraphale let out a moan of pleasure at the sensation. He inhaled deeply, intoxicated by the aroma of his sweet, warm cologne. Crowley wanted to remember this scent forever, this moment forever. _Yes,_ he thought, as Aziraphale moaned again, _want this, want me_. He had imagined this scenario a million times, and it still surpassed his wildest expectations. 

Aziraphale grabbed his sides and pulled him in closer. Crowley was thrilled at the idea of those strong hands leaving bruises on his torso. 

The kiss broke, but Crowley pressed their foreheads together and wrapped his arms around his angel’s neck. “Is this really happening?” His voice was thick with emotion. 

“God, I hope so.” Aziraphale raised his hand to wipe a tear from his cheek. His face had always shone brightly, but it was positively glowing. 

“I’ve wanted this for so long. I can’t begin to tell you. I had hoped, but I wasn’t sure-- I didn’t think--”

“I’ve wanted this for quite sometime too, dear,” Aziraphale reassured. “I say we make the most of it.” 

Crowley knew they weren’t hiding their relationship because Aziraphale was ashamed of him. They were hiding it out of self-preservation. He wasn’t sure what Aziraphale’s parents would disapprove of more- that their son was gay or that he was dating a street rat. Regardless, Crowley was the happiest he had been in his entire life. 

It did sting having to watch Aziraphale take girls as dates to his father’s work parties, but the pain was always eased by gentle kisses and sweet endearments meant only for him.

They were halfway through year twelve, and their routines had stayed similar at school. They already ate lunch and talked in the halls everyday. The only additions were more meaningful glances, and the occasional note. Crowley’s favorite had been slipped into his jacket pocket during a passing period.

_Anthony,_

_We were reading Walt Whitman in English today. This poem made me think of you._

_“There is no endowment in man or woman that is not tallied in you,  
There is no virtue, no beauty in man or woman, but as good is in you,  
No pluck, no endurance in others, but as good is in you,  
No pleasure waiting for others, but an equal pleasure waits for you.  
As for me, I give nothing to any one except I give the like carefully to you,  
I sing the songs of the glory of none, not God, sooner than I sing the songs of the glory of you.”_

_I hope you are enjoying your classes today. Shall I bring jelly rolls to yours this evening?_

_xx Aziraphale_

Crowley read and reread the note six times before he folded it and placed it in his wallet. Whenever life became difficult, or his inadequacies became too much to bear, he would take it out and hold it close to his chest. His reply had been short. 

_Angel,_

__

__

_In non-accelerated English, we’re still reading Woolf._

_“Just in case you ever foolishly forget; I'm never not thinking of you.”_

_Jelly rolls sound great._

_xx Anthony_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is a reference to the poem Aziraphale gives Crowley. To my understanding, year 12 is the equivalent of junior year in the United States.


	3. Cherry Blossom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: we are earning our mature rating with some smut this chapter.

It had been a serene and balmy summer. Crowley had spent his days working like a dog at the nearby docks, while Aziraphale had taken additional lessons and accompanied his father to business meetings. They still had another six weeks before they started their last year of secondary school. Crowley's arms ached from moving palette after palette for nine hours a day, but he was always able to distract himself by imagining how he and Aziraphale would spend their remaining lazy days together. 

They had been dating for six months. Six wonderful months. The best six months of his fucking life. He could finally tell his best friend how much he meant to him, and even kiss him! Every touch still made Crowley weak in the knees, like he was a Victorian maiden in need of a fainting couch. Even if he hadn’t said the words yet, he was sure he’d been in love with Aziraphale since grade two, when he saw him give his coat away to a shivering student then proceed to defend her in a scuffle. 

With the exception of their friend Newt, no one was the wiser about their relationship. People whispered and speculated, but no more than they had before. The citizens of Tadfield knew better than to incur the wrath of Gabriel Fell by openly slandering his son. 

It was an overcast afternoon and warm summer rain had started falling. Crowley and Aziraphale decided to stroll about the high street rather than sit by their rising creek and risk a flash flood.

“You know you look ridiculous carrying that thing, right?” Crowley jested. 

Aziraphale foisted his banana-yellow umbrella even higher and gave it a twirl. “I think it’s nifty. Also, I don’t mind as long as it keeps you dry.” 

Crowley’s ears turned pink. “You’re not worried that people in town might see us standing so close together?” 

“Pish-posh. There’s hardly anyone out in this weather. Also, after I graduate and leave my parents’ house we’ll go out as often as we’d like. We should start practicing now.” Aziraphale had a dreamy look in his eye. “I’ll take you to the nicest restaurants! Oh, I can’t wait to show you off. No one will believe I’m with someone so handsome.” 

“Is that right?” Crowley shot him a crooked smile, and Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically. “Tell me angel, where are you going to get this money to wine and dine me? Your father’s company?”

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Ha! I think not. He’ll have a conniption when I reject my place at the company, but I refuse to be unhappy for the rest of my life. I’ll show you exactly how I intend to make a living.”

“ _Show_ me?” Crowley said confusedly. “Oh, oh no. Angel, please tell me it’s not with your magic act.”

Aziraphale clucked his tongue and grabbed Crowley’s hand, pulling him forward. “Have you no faith in my abilities?”

“Absolutely not. Your magic is awful.”

“Is that so?” Aziraphale sniffed. “Then watch this.” He moved his hands around dramatically. “For my next trick, I shall turn this man's face red!” He grabbed Crowley and pulled him into a tight hug. “Anthony,” he whispered gently in his ear, giving him gooseflesh. “I think you are wonderful. You mean the world to me, darling.” He kissed him gently on the cheek and pulled back to stare at Crowley, who was standing slack jawed. “Aha! Success!”

“That’s not-- you didn’t actually--” Crowley stammered. Aziraphale laughed but kept pulling him forward. Shortly, they were standing outside a dilapidated building.

“What do you see?” Aziraphale asked him.

Crowley gave it an appraising look. What he saw was busted windows, rotting wood, and crumbling brick facade. “I see three stories of absolute rubbish.”

Aziraphale guffawed. “Have you no imagination? You are actually standing outside of a bookshop!”

“I am?” Crowley said flatly. 

“Well, what will be a bookshop. _My_ bookshop.” Aziraphale was smiling so wide, nearly all of his teeth were showing. “It will be magnificent! It just needs a little fixing up first.”

“ _A little?_ Good luck with that. This building is the definition of safety violation.”

“Good luck? You say that like you won’t be helping me.” 

Crowley laughed. “What makes you think you can rope me into this?” he said, knowing very well how easily he’d be roped into this.

“You’ll notice that these are twin storefronts. You’ll help because you’ll own the store beside it!” 

Crowley’s eyebrows shot above his sunglasses. “Me? A business owner? Come off it. It’s a miracle I’m graduating secondary. What type of business would I even run?”

“I am being serious!” Aziraphale protested. “Anthony, you’re so clever. You’ll do wonderfully. I believe you’ll own a… flower shop.”

“A flower shop? Do I look like someone that would own a flower shop?” 

“Your garden is breathtaking and you love working with your plants. Also, that arrangement you made for my 17th birthday was stunning. Don’t pretend you wouldn’t love it. You don’t have to be all overly masculine for my sake.”

Crowley just grunted as a reply. A flower shop. Aziraphale really knew him better than he knew himself. “Let’s go inside then,” he insisted.

“Anthony, no!” Aziraphale blanched. “We don’t own this property. We’d be trespassing!”

“We’ll own it someday. Pretend we’re at a showing. We need to get out of the rain anyways.” The weather had soured as they’d walked through the town, and even Aziraphale’s umbrella couldn’t stop them from being pelted with rain. 

“You’re an awful influence,” Aziraphale conceded. 

“Thank you,” Crowley said with a bow. 

Aziraphale set his umbrella outside the door before moving inside. The old floorboards creaked at their unexpected weight. Crowley fumbled with the light switch, but the electricity had been shut off a long time ago. Luckily, he noticed some candles in the corner of the main room. He whipped out his silver lighter and began to light each one. 

He held them up, waving his lighter for Aziraphale to see. “Bet you don’t mind me smoking now.” 

“Like hell I don’t. Really, I ought to stop kissing you until you quit.” 

“You’d never follow through with that,” Crowley said, absolutely terrified he might follow through with that. 

With a candle in hand, each man explored the building, occasionally getting hit with drops of water from the leaking roof. The musty scent practically pushed its way into their pores as they walked around, and Aziraphale nearly fell on his face as his foot broke through one of the stairs. 

“God, you really know how to pick ‘em angel. This place is even worse on the inside.”

“It is not,” Aziraphale gave a half-hearted protest. “I’ll show you. Sit down over here.”

Crowley took off his leather jacket, and set it on the damp, dusty floor. He watched Aziraphale pace excitedly around the room, gesturing at different walls.

“And this is where the register will go! And I’ll have shelves here. I’d put out seating in this area so people could have a place to read and relax after they make their purchases. We could even sit here as we unwind and talk about our days.”

Crowley loved how he talked about their futures being so intertwined, but he still felt nervous in the pit of his stomach. “You know your parents would never support this. Doesn’t that bother you?”

Aziraphale tilted his head from side to side. “I mean, of course it does a little bit, but there’s only one person I really need the support of.” He moved down to the floor to join Crowley on his jacket. He planted a tender kiss on his lips and rested his head on his shoulder. 

“You know angel, I’ve never seen you so excited about something. It’s very sexy,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows. Teasing Aziraphale had always been a favorite pastime of his. He waited for his angel to start spluttering and blushing in response.

Crowley was surprised by the even tone of Aziraphale’s voice as he spoke in reply. “Prove it.” 

“Wh-what?” Crowley pulled his head away to look at him. 

Aziraphale was blushing, but he stayed where he was and kept eye contact. “You said that you think I’m sexy. I-- I told you to prove it.” 

The two had been dating for months, but they had never gone beyond some passionate snogging. They’d discussed physical intimacy before, but Aziraphale hadn’t been ready, which was completely fine. Obviously, Crowley would like more, but he respected all of the boundaries his partner set. He wouldn’t want to rush anything that important. Also, they had all the time in the world to be together. 

“Ngk.” Crowley’s brain was short circuiting as he searched for words, any words. He attempted to parse out what Aziraphale was implying. “Do…are, are you wanting me to prove it with a, ah, kiss?” His heart was beating so heavily, he could barely hear the words he was saying. 

Instead of answering, the blonde leaned forward with parted lips. His hands started cupping his face, but were soon raking the length of his body. Crowley moaned at the contact of Aziraphale’s manicured fingertips scraping across his skin. Every place of contact was tingling. Crowley let out a yelp of surprise as Aziraphale pressed his palm against Crowley’s hardened cock. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed.

Aziraphale strengthened their kiss, tongue darting inside his mouth. He pushed him back so they were laying horizontal. The air inside the building had been damp and cool, but Crowley’s body burned with the heat of the man on top of him. He was suddenly sweating, and itching to remove his clothing, like his blood had been set on fire. 

The blonde ground his hips down, and Crowley let out a mortifyingly desperate groan at the pressure. He could feel that Aziraphale was also hard. 

“Angel,” he gasped, as he pulled his head back. “Are you sure you’re ready? Are you sure you want to do this?” Aziraphale slipped a hand under his shirt and thumbed his nipple. Crowley unconsciously bucked his hips upward at the sensation. _Fuck_. 

His angel moved his lips to the shell of his ear and nibbled on the lobe, causing another shock wave to burst through Crowley’s body. “I know that I want this with you, and only you. I’ve actually dreamt of this so many times, I think I’ve lost count.”

That was all the redhead needed to hear. In a display of strength, Crowley grabbed him by the hips and flipped him over, so Aziraphale was now the one being straddled. 

Crowley had had previous experience with men, but he was still trembling as he untucked Aziraphale’s shirt and pulled down his trousers and underpants, causing his erection to spring free. His skin was so soft and milky white, he paused to stroke it and kiss his thighs before taking him in his mouth. Aziraphale gasped and threw his head against the wooden floor as the tip hit the roof of Crowley’s mouth. 

He started slowly with light pressure. As he increased his pace, Aziraphale’s hands found his hair and pulled. Crowley moaned in approval, encouraging him.

Aziraphale’s body was trembling, and he looked down to make eye contact. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered. “Anthony, I love you. I love you,” he repeated like a mantra. 

Though both men were very much in love, neither had said the words out loud. Crowley would have screamed it from the rooftops, but his mouth was currently preoccupied. Aziraphale’s admission only made him work harder as he hollowed his cheeks. “I’m-- I’m--,” he started. He came with Crowley’s name on his lips, as Crowley swallowed down all the evidence. 

Aziraphale’s eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily. The sweat on his brow made him glow in the dim candle light. Crowley took a moment to stare at him. The man was an angel, an absolute angel. 

Crowley was opening his mouth to speak, when they heard a rough banging on the door. Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open as he frantically pulled up his pants. 

“Kind of in the middle of something here,” Crowley said angrily.

“Aziraphale, I saw your umbrella out front,” a voice called out. “You have to leave with me now!” 

Azirphale opened the door. It was Newt. He looked like he was close to a panic attack. 

“What is it? What’s happened?”

“Check your watch.”

“Of fuck!” Aziraphale exclaimed. Crowley checked his watch too, it was close to midnight. Even though it felt like time had stopped for them, it obviously hadn’t for the rest of the world. 

“Your father is furious,” Newt explained. “You were spotted in town with Crowley earlier, so he knows you’re out together. He’s ready to file a missing persons report. I only know because Shadwell had me delivering packages for him.” As the town paperboy, Newt was always privy to all of the happenings in Tadfield. 

Aziraphale hurriedly planted a peck on Crowley’s cheek. “I’m sorry dear, but I have to go. I promise we’ll pick up where we left off later.” With that, his angel jumped into the ugliest car he had ever seen and sped off. 

-

Gabriel was shaking with rage as he yelled at his son. “How dare you! How dare you do this to our family!”

“Papa, I’m so sorry!” Aziraphale pleaded. “It was an accident. I promise to never let this happen again.” He had never seen his parents this upset before. He felt like he was the size of a churchmouse as they rounded on him. 

His father left out a cold laugh. “You’re damn right it won’t happen again! Letting you stay friends with that bastard was a mistake. You’ve gotten too close to him.”

Aziraphale was attempting to articulate an argument, when a valet stepped into the dining room and interrupted their conversation. “Sir, the first boxes have been packed up and are ready.”

“Boxes?” Aziraphale asked. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach. “What are you packing up?” 

“Everything. We’re leaving tonight.”

“What?!”

“We’ve been planning this move for awhile now. We were going to tell you and leave at the end of the summer, but you’ve proven that we need to go sooner. You’ve already shot your reputation here. There’s no point in staying.” 

Aziraphale sat down in a nearby chair. This couldn’t be real. This couldn't be happening. He had spent his entire life in this house and this town. It wasn’t possible for everything to be ripped away in a matter of seconds. He was trying to muster all of the courage he could, but he felt absolutely sick. “I-- I can’t leave!” 

“And why is that?” 

Aziraphale let out the sob he had been fighting. “Because I love him!” 

His father snorted in disgust. “You’re 17. You don’t know what love is, just like you don’t know what’s good for you. You’re a minor, you’re under my charge, and you are leaving this house tonight.” 

His father spoke with finality. There was no point in arguing to change his mind. Aziraphale had broken a rule, and he was being punished. “Please papa,” he pleaded. “I need to say goodbye to him. At least grant me that.”

“Gabriel, maybe we should…” Aziraphale’s mother started. 

“No,” he snapped. “If you think I’m letting him leave this house you’re delusional. We’re not going to let him get any ideas from that mongrel.” He turned to his son. “Help the maids finish packing your room.” 

Aziraphale ran up the stairs, his vision blurred with tears. He was relieved to find that his stationary hadn’t been moved yet. He scribbled out a letter and handed it to Tracy. 

“Please,” he begged. “Please make sure this gets to him.” 

-

Crowley was exhausted. He had barely slept at all the night before. He knew that Aziraphale’s father was strict, and would likely set a stringent punishment to keep them apart for the remainder of the summer. _He’ll be able to move out in one year_ , he told himself, _everything will work out_. 

He set his palette down and noticed Newt’s car parked near the docks, he was running towards him. The man really had a knack for showing up where he wasn’t supposed to. 

“Crowley, you have to come with me now!” he yelled. 

“In the middle of something, Newt. Can it wait a few hours?” 

“No it can’t!” The panic in his voice rivaled that the previous night. “It’s about Aziraphale.” Crowley dropped his palette immediately. “I was doing my regular route to drop off their paper and… you have to come and see for yourself.”

Crowley yelled off to his boss and ran.


	4. Time's Arrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all ready for some angst?

The door to the manor was open and people were streaming in and out. Newt had briefed him on what he’d observed, but he needed to see it with his own eyes. For the first time in three years, Crowley rushed inside. The once ostentatious home was now filled with strangers, boxes, and bare walls. The vice in his chest grew tighter. 

As he rushed up the stairs, he could hear someone yell, “Oi! You can’t go in there!” He ignored them as he made his way to the top floor and threw open the third door on the left. Everything was gone.

Crowley spun around in a panic. “Aziraphale!” he called out. “Aziraphale, where are you? I can’t find you!”

He was enveloped in a gentle pair of arms. He turned to face Tracy, his eyes wide and full of fear. “What’s happened? Where is he?”

She looked at him despondently, and he could feel his heart sink into his stomach. “I’m so sorry, love.” She tightened her hug. “The family is gone. They left last night.” 

He felt like he was watching himself from a mile away. Only twelve hours ago their bodies had been intertwined on the floor of a dusty old building. Twelve hours ago Aziraphale had told him that he loved him. He couldn’t be _gone_. 

He tried to speak through the tightness in his throat. “Where? Tell me, where are they?” he begged. 

Tracy shook her head in reply. 

“I just saw him yesterday!” he snarled. “They can’t be gone already!” 

“All I know is that they’re somewhere North. Mr. Fell didn’t say specifically. They haven’t purchased a new manor, so they’re staying with a relative in the meantime.”

A horrible thought occurred to Crowley. “Did he know?” he croaked. “Did Aziraphale know he was leaving?”

“No, dear. They didn’t tell him. His father knew how connected he is to… this town. His parents were worried someone might convince him to run away or stay behind if given the opportunity.”

Crowley let out a cold laugh. Damn right someone would have convinced him to stay! Aizraphale was his best friend. They’d been inseparable for ten years. Losing him would be like losing the ability to speak, or walk, or breath. He thought of his poor angel, ripped from his home without warning, being forced to go somewhere new and unfamiliar. 

Tracy began rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Shhhhh,” she cooed softly. “It’s alright.” He hadn’t realized how shallow his breathing had gotten. “Just in and out. Listen to my voice.” 

After a few minutes had passed, Tracy produced a piece of paper from her colorful jacket pocket. “His parents didn’t want him to say goodbye, but he made me promise I’d give this to you.” 

Crowley accepted the envelope with trembling hands. _Anthony_ was written on the outside in Aziraphale’s fancy calligraphy. He could feel hot tears streamed down his face as he read it over and over again.

_  
My Dearest Anthony,_

_I’m sorry that this is brief, but I don’t have much time. I’m sure Tracy will tell you what’s happened. I haven’t been told where we are going yet, only that it’s far away._

_I promise I will write to you and we will be reunited again. I know how strong you are and I trust you to take care of yourself while I am gone. Please never forget your worth while I am away._

_I meant what I said last night and I will come back to you. Expect to hear from me soon. As you’ve told me before, know that I will never not be thinking of you._

_Love your angel always,_

_Aziraphale  
_

Crowley let out a shaky exhale. He would come back. Aziraphale would come back and everything would be fine. Everything had to be fine. 

\----

There was so much Crowley wanted to say, that he _needed_ to say. He waited on tenterhooks for his next letter to arrive. A week passed in total silence, but he forced himself to stay calm. Aziraphale had just moved, his life was probably hectic. He would find the time to write to him soon.

It wasn’t until a month had gone by that Crowley’s anxiety had become unbearable. He had taken to waiting by the mailbox for Shadwell, the postman.

“Sorry, laddie. Nuthin’ for ya today,” he always said apologetically. 

Crowley reread the initial letter Aziraphale had left him. It had begun to resemble a well loved book, becoming faded and wrinkled from being pulled out and refolded so many times. There was no misirepreting it. Aziraphale had had every intention of keeping in touch when he had written it. He said he would return to him, but after six months of radio silence Crowley had lost hope for that as well.

The rest of the school year passed in a blur. The building was haunted by happy memories that now seemed to mock him. His classmates had grown even more fearful of him. They’d assumed that Aziraphale was a leveling agent that kept Crowley’s temper under control, and they had been right. 

Crowley’s lowest point came a month before graduation. He just wanted an address. He needed to write at least one letter to figure out what had happened, or maybe plan an impromptu drive to visit Aziraphale in person. He felt like an addict that needed to see that gorgeous, cherubic face again. His entire being itched with the desire to just hear his obnoxiously proper and musical voice, and to be held by his strong, warm arms. So, he swallowed his pride as he approached some of his wealthier, better dressed classmates and asked if they knew where he’d gone.

Sandy shot him a look of disbelief and then sneered at him. “You mean you don’t know?” he laughed. “And all these years we thought you were friends.”

Crowley’s hands balled into fists, he raised one of them as a warning. The smile slid from Sandy’s face. “Even if I knew where he was, which I don’t, why would we tell some trashy bastard like you? He obviously doesn’t want you dragging him down, so drop it.”

Crowley tried to feel angry at Sandalphon’s response. He hadn’t cared about his disdain for him before, but this time his words hurt. It hurt because he knew that Sandy was right. Aziraphale didn’t want to be found. 

There was no doubt in Crowley’s mind that he’d been whisked to a world of wealthier, fancier, better connected people. It was no surprise that Aziraphale would rather spend his evenings at the opera or attending plays rather than talking with a boy who could only offer him endearments in an overgrown forest. 

_Was this his way of letting me down easy?_ Crowley wondered. _Just stopping all communication?_

Crowley’s father had been proud of him when he graduated secondary (it was a miracle considering how often he’d been suspended his last year), but Crowley felt like retching. It was when Aziraphale was going to tell his parents he was leaving to pursue his own happiness, and that happiness was supposed to be with Crowley. His heart became bitter. If he couldn’t bring happiness to the man that loved him, how could he bring it to anyone else? 

His father became engaged not long after. “Mary and I are moving to Kent,” he said. “She has some family there. I think you should come along.”

“Can’t,” Crowley mumbled, refusing to make eye contact. 

His father gave him a mournful look and took him by the hand. “I know why you want to stay, but chasing his ghost won’t do you any good.” 

After graduation, Crowley had seriously considered leaving Tadfield, but his soul still felt tethered there even though his heart had left a long time ago. He had made a promise. Even if Aziraphale didn’t intend to keep his end of it, Crowley would be damned if he didn’t follow through. 

“Is it possible to hate someone and love someone at the same time?” Crowley looked into his father’s amber eyes, a mirror image of his own.

“Yes.” He gave his son a sad smile. “I learned that when your mum ran off. I somehow managed to mourn her loss and have hope for her return for years. It was exhausting.”

Crowley clenched his jaw. “Then let me mourn and hope for him.” 

His father was kind enough to leave him his childhood home. Crowley barely spent any time there. He worked grueling hours and picked up multiple shifts until he could afford to purchase the ugliest building he had ever seen.

\-- 

_1962, 5 years later_

Crowley had had a string of one night stands to satisfy himself physically, but he was currently involved with a man named Thomas. They’d been together for two months, and it was the longest relationship Crowley had managed to have in years. Even though he didn’t fill the gaping hole in Crowley’s chest, Thomas was toned, classically handsome, and capable of holding an intelligent conversation. 

The two had been walking down Main Street after eating at a new Italian bistro. 

“Thank you for dinner,” Thomas smiled. “That cake was absolutely delicious.” 

Crowley shrugged. “Eh, I’ve had better.”

As they walked back to Crowley's house, they passed a crumbling old building with a SOLD sign in the window.

Thomas wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I can’t believe you bought that decaying shack. The thing looks like a money pit.” They kept moving towards it, then Thomas pulled away. “Ew, there’s even a tramp outside!” He avoided eye contact with the woman and whispered to Crowley, “I get that it’s cold out, but it’s like they expect you to give them the shirt off your back.” 

Crowley only grunted as a reply and moved to light a cigarette. 

“You know, I should stop kissing you until you give up that nasty habit,” Thomas teased.

“Then do it,” Crowley said flatly. “I’m not changing for you.”

Thomas shot him an indignant look. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Crowley exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Nothing you need to be concerned with.”

“I’m your boyfriend, Crowley. Of course I’m concerned about you! I care about you. Don’t you care about me too?”

Crowley shrugged in response. “Sure, why not?”

Unexpectedly, Crowley felt a hand slap his face.“You’re going to die alone you heartless bastard!” 

Crowley didn’t respond. Thomas was probably right, but mostly because Crowley had a habit of picking arseholes as partners. He ignored the stinging in his cheek. He had bigger things to concentrate on, the twin storefronts he had purchased were still in dire need of remodeling. 

\--

_1965, 3 years later_

The building was practically unrecognizable. Almost everything had needed replacing, from the leaking roof to the rotting floorboards. It had taken years of hard work through blistering summers and frigid winters for it to happen, but he felt it was worth the sacrifice. He could see the progress he had made with his own hands, and there was something undeniably rewarding about that. Finally, Flowers from Eden was officially open for business.

On the recommendation of Newt, Crowley had hired an eccentric woman named Anathema as an assistant. The shop was doing better than he had anticipated, and he needed the help. Anathema turned out to be one of the most well spoken, intelligent, pain in the ass people he had ever met. 

“How are the finances looking?” he called over her shoulder. Crowley enjoyed the artistic side of the shop, and let Anathema handle most of the bills and budgeting.

“Fine,” she called back. “Do you know how much money we could make if you rented out the shop next door? It doesn’t make any business sense to leave it vacant.”

Crowley shook his head. He was tired of having this conversation. “I think you mean how much money _I_ could be making by renting out the other store. I put my heart and soul into restoring this shite building. Haven’t found the right tenant yet. I need someone that I can trust not to muck it up.” 

Anathema sighed. “You’re putting in twelve hour days. I’m just saying, it would allow you to take a break. You deserve to relax and have some fun.”

He didn't respond. Anathema was fairly new to Tadfield, but Newt had filled her in on _some_ of Crowley’s history with the town and the bookshop he wanted to put in next door. She was tempted to push, but decided to back down for the time being. Some wounds took longer to heal than others. 

Crowley didn’t mind working long hours at the shop. It wasn’t that difficult considering he lived in the stylish flat he'd built above it. Even though he didn’t live at his father’s old house any longer, he couldn’t sell it. He said it was because there were too many memories there, but if he was being honest, he still held out hope that someday he may receive a letter with fancy, neat calligraphy. 

Anathema’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Drink with me tonight.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“No. I should be prepping orders for tomorrow.”

“You should be getting to know your only employee better. C’mon Crowley, we’ve been working together for three months and I hardly know anything about you. I’ll even pay.” 

He stared at her for a moment, weighing his options. “Fine.” he relented. 

After closing, they headed down to Hell’s Tavern where she ordered a mojito and Crowley a whiskey. They spent a few moments in silence before she started prodding him. 

“So why did you become a florist?” she asked.

Crowley let out a dramatic groan. “Is this whole night just going to be a round of questioning?” he grumbled. “If so, I can just pay for my own drink and leave.”

“Humor me,” she insisted. His expression became even more sour. “Fine, give me five questions.”

“Two,” he countered.

“Three. Three is all I’ll ask, then we can have a normal night of friendly conversation.” 

He shot her a withering look. “Fine, but answer my question first. Why are you trying so hard to be friends with me?”

“Because I like you.”

He shot her a skeptical look. “I do!” she protested. “Also, you’re aura is lonely.” 

He let out a bark of laughter. “Whatever. I like gardening. I like flowers. I’ve been told I’m good at floral arrangements and I like what I do. Next question.”

She _hmmm_ ed thoughtfully, surprised he was playing along. “Favorite color?”

“Really?” he raised an eyebrow above his sunglasses. “You get three questions and you’re going to waste one on that?” She nodded, prompting Crowley to gesture at his clothing. “Black, obviously.”

He knew what the last question would be before she asked it. “Why are you really leaving the space next door vacant?”

“I already told you that. It’s not your business anyways.”

“I work for you, so it literally is my business. Also, you lied earlier. I could tell.” He shook his head in a half hearted protest. “It’s the third question. You already agreed to answer it.”

Crowley looked away and swirled his drink in his hand. “I’m surprised Newt hasn’t told you already.” 

“He said it’s not his story to tell, but that you’re waiting for a bookstore owner.”

He finished his drink in one gulp, considering how honest he should be. “Something like that,” he said. With a reluctant sigh, he proceeded to tell Anathema his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will follow Aziraphale during their time apart.


	5. Marches Forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on Aziraphale during his time apart from Crowley.

Aziraphale was still in shock. He was leaving the only home he had ever known to stay with some distant relative for an undisclosed period of time. He cried himself to sleep as they drove through the night. His father had been overtly disgusted by his sobs, but Aziraphale couldn't care less. He found some solace in knowing Crowely would get his letter. Hopefully that would bring him some sort of peace, even if it was like putting a band aid on a gaping wound. Crowley did not have many friends or family in Tadfield, and he hated the idea of him being alone.

It was dawn by the time they arrived at his spinster Aunt Michael’s home. After being shown to his room, the first thing he did was unpack his stationary. His goodbye letter had been brief out of necessity, and there was so much more he felt he needed to say. 

He asked Crowley to temporarily hold off on his replies. Michael was a gossip who would undoubtedly snoop and meddle whenever possible. Any letters sent to her home would surely be intercepted and read. Aziraphale had finally been informed they would be moving to a permanent residence in Manchester in two weeks. He desperately wanted to hear from his love, and knew that Crowley was probably frustrated, but he needed to make sure their communication stayed private for the time being. 

The two weeks dragged on for what felt like an eternity, during which he spent most of his time alone. The new manor in Manchester was even more extravagant than the one they had owned in Tadfield. It was made almost entirely of white marble, giving it a sterile feeling. It was open and empty, and reflected exactly how lonely he felt inside. 

“I am going to visit Tadfield,” Aziraphale had announced to his parents, fully expecting another fight. He had been working up the courage to confront them, and moving to this barren estate that was devoid of any life or color had pushed him over the edge. 

His father barely glanced over the top of his newspaper. Aziraphale was surprised to see he was smiling. “You have my whole hearted blessing, son. I’ll even have our valet take you there, on the condition that you wait until next summer.” 

Aziraphale was completely surprised by the generosity of his father’s reply. Maybe he _did_ feel guilty for taking him away from Crowely. “Oh. Oh, thank you,” he replied surprisedly. “But why wait until the summer?”

“I want to make sure you aren’t distracted from your studies. A trip to Tadfield could be your graduation present. I know you’ve been writing to your _friend_ ,” he grimaced at the word, but carried on, “you’ll need to work out the arrangements with him before then.” 

Aziraphale’s heart soared as he pulled his father into a hug. He desperately wished Crowley had a telephone so he could tell him this wonderful news immediately. He longed to hear that deep, expressive, sarcastic voice teasing him again, but next summer was less than a year away. Letters would have to suffice until then.

Aziraphale quickly wrote about this exciting development, as well as his new address in Manchester and waited. School would be starting again soon, and he was looking forward to Crowley’s encouraging words as he tried to make his way through this new city alone. 

Even though Crowley’s replies hadn’t arrived yet, Aziraphale couldn't help but write to him again. Everyday, after returning home from school, he would take out a crisp piece of paper and jot down his thoughts. He would write about his day, his ambitions, what he thought Crowley was up to, and anything else that crossed his mind. On Saturday he would stuff all of his papers into a single envelope and drop it at the post office.

He eagerly awaited Crowley’s response. _How was Tadfield? Had anyone new moved in the manor? How had his first day of school been?_

People at his new school were kind to him, but it was completely superficial. They knew of his family’s connections and were trying to get ahead. He longed for the unfeigned warmth and kindness of his best friend. 

He was practically shaking with anticipation every time the postman came by, but nothing was ever addressed to him. After weeks of writing, his anticipation turned into full blown anxiety. Why wasn’t Crowley responding? Had Aziraphale misremembered his address?

Crowley couldn’t have forgotten about him already. They had been intimate with each other. Aziraphale had even told him that he loved him. It was true that Crowley had never said it back, but he could _feel_ it. The way that Crowley had touched him, looked at him, spoken to him… he had never felt such unconditional acceptance before. That couldn’t be erased in a matter of weeks… could it? 

After packing up their manor in Tadfield, Tracy had returned to the Fell residence as head maid. She was the only genuine person he felt was still in his life, and he confided all of his worries to her. 

Aziraphale had returned home from an especially draining social engagement he’d attended at his parent’s behest. The worst parts of it replayed in his mind. 

It had taken place at a well decorated manor that was slightly smaller than his home. He had returned from the restroom, where he’d been giving himself a pathetic pep talk, and approached a group of girls that he recognized from school. They were already in the middle of a conversation.   
“It’s sad that some people still haven’t learned their place in society,” a girl named Lydia, who reminded Aziraphale of Sandy, drawled. “I can’t believe that a caterer has the audacity to make small talk with _my_ boyfriend.” She leaned into the group and conspiratorially whispered, “Watch this.” 

She promptly called over a redheaded waitress who was carrying a tray laden with hors d'oeuvres. “Hello ladies,” she stared, “how may I--” before she could finish her sentence, Lydia had stuck out his foot, making her crash to the ground. She landed awkwardly on her elbow with a hiss as food splattered everywhere.

“You can help us by learning your place, trash,” she sneered, causing the group to erupt in giggles, with the exception of Aziraphale, who could hardly believe what he had just witnessed. 

He was practically shaking with anger as he leaned over and offered his arm to help the redhead off of the ground. “I am so sorry, my dear.” 

She accepted his help with misty eyes. “S’fine. Happens more often than you think.” She didn’t even look upset, just resigned to this type of abuse. It made Aziraphale’s temper flare even hotter. 

“Apologize,” he said in a low tone. 

“Yeah,” Lydia repeated. “Apologize.” 

“Not her,” Aziraphale growled, his tone was acidic. He pointed a finger at Lydia. “You apologize, you tempestuous wench!” 

The collective giggles came to a dead stop. “How dare you--,” she stammered. “How dare you speak--.” Lydia shook her head. “My parents said to play nice with you because you’re a Fell, but what you really are is a freak!” She looked at the group and gestured away from him. “Let’s get out of here ladies. If he’s willing to defend people like them, he’s not worth the connections.” 

Aziraphale knew he had done the right thing, even if it meant isolation at school. He’d rather be with _people like them_ than entitled brats any day of the week. 

Tracy could tell something was wrong when he came home from the party, and promptly brought biscuits to his room. Aziraphale had been tamping down his emotions for sometime, but in his worn out state he broke into tears after Tracy’s brief questioning. She spoke soothing words to him like she had when he was a child. “It’s alright, love,” she cooed. “You’ll be alright. You know, he’d be proud of you for standing up for her.”

They didn’t need to say who she was referring to. “It really doesn’t matter what he’d think though, does it?” he sniffled. “It’s not like he ever loved me.” 

Tracy clucked her tongue. “That boy has been obsessed with you since primary school. I’m sure something else must have happened. Maybe his family moved unexpectedly too?”

It was a lame excuse created solely to make him feel better, but he clung to it nevertheless. It was better than facing the whole hearted rejection he felt in his heart. Regardless, he continued writing letters for another year. 

Aziraphale had trudged through year thirteen and graduation was finally upon him. He couldn’t wait to be free of the scornful looks he received from his classmates after that disastrous party. He was standing in front of a mirror, examining his graduation robes when his father approached him. 

“Well, I said I would take you back to Tadfield for the summer. Did you ever make arrangements with that Crowley boy?”

Aziraphale tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Ah, no. I-- I was never able to get in touch with him.” 

Even with his son on the verge of tears, Gabriel looked extremely satisfied by his answer. 

“Perhaps we could still visit anyways?” Aziraphale ventured. 

“No,” his father said coolly. “I don’t feel comfortable sending you there without some sort of pre-planned arrangement. You shouldn’t go there if you aren’t wanted.”

Aziraphale felt something break in his chest. That really was at the heart of everything. Aziraphale was simply not wanted. Not in Manchester, and especially not in Tadfield. Honestly, how could he show his face in that town after such a blatant rejection? 

He smoothed out the wrinkles on his gown absentmindedly. He thought about the bookshop, the floral shop, spending more lazy days down at the creek, and all of his other foolish dreams that had crumbled around him. What had he been thinking? How could he have been so naive as to think someone would want to build a life from scratch with him?

Luckily, he had the safety of his father’s company to fall back on. _No more unrealistic pipe dreams_ , he decided. _No more being that unnecessarily vulnerable._ Aziraphale accepted it was in everyone’s best interest if he just followed the plan his father had made for him. 

Aziraphale sent his final letter to the man he loved the day before he left for university in London. 

-

Aziraphale double majored at the University of London. He earned a bachelor’s in economics as his father requested, while concurrently obtaining a degree in literature. The additional coursework was grueling, but he endured the additional hours of commitment. It felt good to throw himself into something he enjoyed. Anticipating literature lectures made finance courses more bearable. After graduating with his four year degree, he immediately began working on his Masters of Business. 

Aziraphale’s social life wasn’t _completely_ abysmal while obtaining his degrees. He had made some friendly acquaintances in his classes, and attended the occasional party. 

He mainly went to gentlemen's clubs to meet people like himself, but nothing bloomed into a relationship. No one ever challenged him. No one ever teased him, or told him when he was being unreasonable and fussy. He had money and a powerful future ahead of him, and everyone he met seemed disingenuous and eager to please. 

Even when he met someone authentic, he could never quite overcome his commitment issues. His body and soul never felt captivated as it once had. To his dismay, he knew that Crowley still carried his bruised and battered heart. 

Aziraphale had thought about returning to Tadfield every summer to seek closure, but was convinced that by this point Crowley really had moved away. Also, on the off chance he did still live there, how could Aziraphale face him? His heart clenched at the thought of that beautiful, angular face being disappointed to see him. No, the mere risk of seeing him in Tadfield was too painful to think about. 

Years passed and Aziraphale moved ahead at his father’s company. He had thrown himself completely into his work. It was dull, profitable, and something he was very good at. He wasn’t at all surprised when his father had called him into his office and offered him a promotion. 

The office was spacious and full of mahogany furniture. Aziraphale sat in an uncomfortable chair and waited for his father to speak while he politely sipped the tea a secretary had brought in. 

“You’ve been a valuable asset to the company, but I think you’re capable of more.”

“Thank you, father,” he replied automatically. “I look forward to taking on any position you see fit for me.” 

Gabriel nodded. “It’s similar to what you’re doing now, but you’ll be working in the United States.” 

“What?” Aziraphale gasped, teacup nearly slipping to the ground. 

“We’re in the process of buying out a company in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I need someone I can trust that knows the ins and outs of Fell Corp. We need to ensure everything runs smoothly. Of course, you’ll be receiving a considerable pay raise when you accept.” 

Aziraphale tried to speak, but his mouth was dry. He couldn’t care less about the money. The idea of leaving his comfortable flat in Soho was nearly unbearable. “Wh-What would my responsibilities be exactly?” 

“You’d still be over investments, but I’d need you to send back detailed reports on how the transition is going. You’d be enforcing our company policies, overseeing the managers, and other things of that nature. There’s also another matter I would need you to attend to.” He paused, as if he were searching for the right words. “The President of Haven Industries, the company we’re merging with, is willing to sell to us at a significantly lower price to us if we complete a certain task for him.”

That sounded considerably odd. “What is it?” 

“He’s been looking for someone to marry his daughter for quite some time….” he trailed off, looking at his son expectantly. 

Aziraphale had no idea what he was trying to imply. “Alright…?”

Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh, annoyed that his son couldn’t infer what he was getting at. “Aziraphale, look. I accept your _inclinations_ , but marrying Uriel would be for the greater good of the company.”

“Wait,” he spluttered, unable to believe his ears. “This ‘certain task’ you’re referring to is marriage to a complete stranger!? You can’t possibly be serious!” 

“Of course I’m serious. I don’t see what the problem is.” 

“You don’t see what the problem is!” Aziraphale repeated in disbelief. “Do you realize what you’re asking of me? You want me to not only give up my home country, but any chance of romantic happiness! This is ludicrous!”

“Lower your voice,” Gabriel said, as if he were trying to calm down a disgruntled toddler. “What chance of romantic happiness? You’ve never been in a successful relationship before. Are you still holding out for something at this point?” 

“I have been in a successful relationship!” It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to think about Crowley for more than a few moments at a time. The memories had become too painful to dwell on.

“What are you talking abo…” Gabriel laughed and shook his head. “Oh God, Aziraphale. Tell me you’re not referring to that redheaded street urchin. That was years ago!”

“Damn it father, he has a name!” Aziraphale inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm down. Losing his head would accomplish nothing. “My overall lack of successful relationships does not matter. I would never marry someone I couldn’t love. It would be absolutely cruel.” 

“That’s the best part!” his father beamed. “She’s like you that way with her… inclinations.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said with dawning comprehension. “So we would be each other’s ‘beards’, then?”

“You don’t have to say it like that. Look, she’s intelligent and hardworking. You could think of each other as business partners.” He stood and moved to put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Why let yourself get hurt again? If you marry Uriel then you’ll never be lonely. You’d never have to face rejection.”

Honestly, that did sound enticing, but Aziraphale still felt a pit in his stomach. “I need time,” he breathed. “It’s reasonable to take time before making a big decision. You taught me that in business; I think it also applies to real life.” 

“Fine.” Gabriel’s expression soured. He was obviously annoyed that his son hadn’t immediately agreed with him. “But be quick about it. We have to start structuring the buy out and I need to have you on board.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes were stinging with tears as he left the building. The audacity of that man! At this point in his life, he shouldn’t have been surprised that his father would use him as a bargaining chip to benefit the company, but it still hurt to be seen as a pawn.

He returned to his Soho flat, changed into comfortable clothes, and splashed cold water on his face. Rather than agonize over the rather large decision he needed to make, he decided to have a relaxing evening in. He had just finished making a cup of cocoa when he heard a knock on the door. 

He was stunned to see Tracy standing before him. Before he could say anything, she brought him into a bone crushing hug. “Hello, love. Mind if I come inside?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think or what you’d like to see!


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